


If Winter Ends

by worrisomeme



Series: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depressed Steve, Depressed Steve Rogers, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8435110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: Bucky’s been gone for two days and it was definitely not the time for him to spiral but he’ll be damned if that’s not what happened. Bucky’s been a rock (especially since they moved in together) always there to distract him when a mood hits. But Bucky’s not here and this mood hits him hard. Hard hard. Liquor until the sun comes up, buying a pack of cigarettes despite his asthma hard. He slips out onto the fire escape so the smoke doesn’t permeate everything in the apartment.By the time he’s been gone two whole weeks Steve has barely made it out of bed. He’s managed to text sweet little lies to his friends so they won’t come pester him, but he doesn’t know the last time he’s washed his hair or eaten, talk about do something productive like work. But he doesn’t want their help. He wants to wallow. He knows it’s not healthy or safe and that it’s just the stupid disorder talking but god does he want to soak in it right now.He’s so far under he doesn’t even feel alarmed when he’s got the blade pressed to his hip.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sososo much Cat! I never would have gotten this written without your help! <3

Bucky’s been gone for two days and it was definitely not the time for him to spiral but he’ll be damned if that’s not what happened. Bucky’s been a rock (especially since they moved in together) always there to distract him when a mood hits. But Bucky’s not here and this mood hits him hard. Hard hard. Liquor until the sun comes up, buying a pack of cigarettes despite his asthma hard. He slips out onto the fire escape so the smoke doesn’t permeate everything in the apartment.

By the time he’s been gone two whole weeks Steve has barely made it out of bed. He’s managed to text sweet little lies to his friends so they won’t come pester him, but he doesn’t know the last time he’s washed his hair or eaten, talk about do something productive like work. But he doesn’t want their help. He wants to wallow. He knows it’s not healthy or safe and that it’s just the stupid disorder talking but god does he want to soak in it right now.

He’s so far under he doesn’t even feel alarmed when he’s got the blade pressed to his hip. He knows the booze in his system will make him bleed more, but he’s not really worried about it. He’ll stop bleeding. Eventually. He’ll be fine. And how is this worse than the booze (which, he likes to remind Peggy when he’s in these moods, is probably waaaaay more harmful to his body than his method anyway, in the long run, despite being a more socially acceptable method of having a breakdown)? The only difference is this one leaves visible scars.

At least he’s not trying to throw himself off the Brooklyn Bridge again. Hell, he even dragged himself into the bathroom so he doesn’t bleed all over the carpet. It is much harder to clean blood out of carpeting. Once he starts he doesn’t know how many it will take for him to stop, but he’s still working up the nerve for that first bite of metal into flesh when the front door bangs open.

The scissors clatter as they hit the bathroom floor.

Shit. He was supposed to meet Bucky at the airport half an hour ago.

He hears a heavy thunk as bags are dropped and the door slams shut again. Bucky doesn’t even pause to lock it. He’s barely gotten his sweats back up over his hips when Bucky barrels into the bathroom.

He takes in the scene and lets out a relieved sigh, but Steve just looks guilty, like a kid caught breaking an expensive vase.

“Jesus Stevie,” Bucky mumbles as he pulls his boyfriend into his arms. He’s squeezing a little too hard, but Steve won’t complain.

He suddenly feels very, very guilty. When he wasn’t at the airport Bucky probably thought he’d come home to a body, and that’s not right. He should be able to take business trips without having to worry the whole time about things like that.

“I missed you,” is all Steve can get out as he sobs into Bucky’s chest, his fists clenched in his shirt.

“I missed you too punk.” And then he’s pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He doesn’t pull back until Steve settles a little. He tugs gently at the hem of his shirt and says cautiously, “Let’s take a shower Stevie.”

Steve’s cheeks are flushed and he’s still got a few stray tears running down his cheeks but eventually he nods. “How was your trip?” he asks, voice soft and timid as Bucky turns the water on.

“It was good,” Bucky replies, his tone is quiet and soothing. He turns to his boyfriend and tugs his shirt off. Steve lets him without complaint, but his eyes widen and he grips Bucky’s hands with surprising strength when he tries to pull down his pants.

“I… uh… Maybe I should just… um…” he’s stammering, trying to find words. The alcohol is making his brain foggy.

Bucky sighs a little and it makes him flinch. “How bad is it?” he asks.

Tears are welling up in Steve’s eyes again and the tightness in his chest returns. The last thing he needs right now is an asthma attack damnit. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “Please, I’m sorry, just…” he hiccups then whispers, “please don’t leave me.” He sinks to his knees, shaking. He just can’t support himself anymore. He lets out a little sob, then continues rambling. “I know you’re sick of me, I know, I know. But please, just, not yet. Please let it pass first. Then you can go, then you can…” he dissolves into soft sobs and whimpers.

Bucky scoops him up and peppers his face with kisses. “I’m not going to leave you Stevie,” he whispers. “I’m not sick of you. C’mon, I think a shower would help.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it and instead just nods. Bucky sets him down and, this time when he goes to slip his pants down his legs Steve doesn’t stop him. He winces at the wounds in various stages of healing along Steve’s hips and outer thighs. There’s a lot. More than he’d anticipated. All of Steve’s old scars are faded enough that you can only see them if you’re looking for them. These stand out bright pink and dark red against his pale skin.

But he just kneels down and presses soft kisses to his hips. “I love you,” he whispers as he stands. “C’mon, hop in.”

Steve nods numbly as he tries to calm himself again. He slips into the shower and leans against the wall, just letting the water hit him. It does feel nice, the warmth.  It feels even better when Bucky joins him a second later, wrapping his arms around him from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Maybe,” Bucky says after a long moment, “next time I have a long business trip, you should come with me. You work from home, you could work from a hotel room too, right?”

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t do that, that’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to drag me along everywhere because you can’t trust me.”

Bucky spins him around and looks right into his eyes. It’s too intense for him. He can’t handle it right now, so he looks away. Bucky sighs and pulls him to his chest. “It wouldn’t be because I don’t trust you,” he says.

“That’s what it feels like.”

“Listen, we’ll talk about it again when you feel better. I know how your brain works when it’s like this. But I just want you to know that it wouldn’t just be for you. It hits me bad too, when I’m away. I don’t sleep, and when I do it’s always the nightmares. Every time. And I just miss you. Even little stuff like the sound of your breathing when we’re both working. Or our little breaks we take to make out on the couch.”

Steve actually smiles a little, leaning into his boyfriend’s chest. “I don’t know how you got anything done for two whole weeks without makeout breaks,” he teases, but his voice is still timid.

Bucky laughs and kisses his forehead. “Exactly. It was so hard!” he says, his tone way over the top. It works, though, and Steve lets out a soft chuckle. “You feeling a little better?” he asks after a moment.

Steve takes a deep breath and nods. “A little,” he admits. And he does. His mood is by no means gone. He’s beating himself up over the work he’s blown off and the cuts he’ll have to deal with until they heal, the scars Bucky will have to look at for months until they fade. But it’s better.

“Okay, good. Let’s go get some sleep,” Bucky says, shutting off the water.

They didn’t actually do any washing, but Steve thinks that probably wasn’t the point.

They climb out of the tub and dry off, then Bucky scoops him up and carries him to the bedroom bridal-style. They don’t even bother getting dressed before they curl up under the blankets and they’re asleep in minutes.

 

*

 

The next day Steve doesn’t really feel better anymore. He wakes up in Bucky’s arms but it’s barely a comfort. He just lays there, huffs out a sigh, closes his eyes and tries to will himself to fall back asleep until this stupid fucking mood has passed. But he’s not that lucky.

He knows he should get up and make coffee, make his amazing boyfriend breakfast in bed, even take an actual fucking shower, _something_. But he just can’t bring himself to move. He’s starting to get pissed because this is _so stupid_ but even his anger can’t get him out of bed. It’s like it’s just paralyzing him more.

He doesn’t even realize he’s been squirming until Bucky kisses the back of his neck and breathes, “Mmm good morning wiggly.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles, stilling in the brunet’s arms. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay baby,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. He returns to peppering the smaller man’s neck with kisses. “How are you feeling?”

But all Steve can manage is a small shrug, so Bucky holds him just a little tighter.

“I _want_ to feel better,” Steve whispers, frustration in his tone. He turns in his boyfriend’s arms so he can face him. “I just… can’t. And it really pisses me off! I don’t know what to do.”

Bucky studies his face for a long moment, obviously lost in his own head. Then he kisses Steve, gentle but firm, and when he pulls back he looks into his eyes and asks, “Do you trust me?”

Steve furrows his brow, but nods. “Of course,” he whispers. “With my life, obviously.” He lets out a bitter little laugh at that and Bucky rolls his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

“Well, one of my friends… he’s got really bad depression, like you, and gets those- oh what do you call them? Moods? Like yours.” He’s blushing now. “He gave me this suggestion, something he does with his girlfriend that helps him work through the moods until they pass. I hope you’re not mad that I spoke with him about it.”

“I mean, I’m mildly annoyed, but it’s whatever I guess,” Steve says with a shrug, rolling back away from his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says softly, resting a hand on his waist. “I wasn’t, like, bitching about it. You know I don’t hold it against you or anything like that like some neurotypical would. I just know he has major depression too and I wanted to help and I thought maybe he’d be able to suggest something we haven’t tried.”

“Because we’re all the same,” Steve snaps. He doesn’t mean to, but the anger’s been bubbling up in his gut and he knows he shouldn’t direct it at Bucky when it isn’t really his fault but he can’t stop himself now. “Because anything that helps one person with depression will obviously help all of them. Because I obviously haven’t tried every little thing possible to feel better?”

“You know that’s not what I think,” Bucky says, starting to get defensive. “I know how much and how hard you’ve tried. I just, this is something he couldn’t exactly do without his girlfriend so you might not have tried it before.”

“Because I’ve never been in a relationship before you?” Steve practically throws himself out of bed and starts pacing angrily, arms crossed over his chest. “Because no one could love a crazy person!”

“No!” Bucky groans as he bolts upright. “That’s not what I meant,” he sighs. “Everything is just coming out wrong. I’m sorry Stevie.” He hangs his head a little.

It’s not _his_ fault Steve’s in a mood and when he reminds himself of that the blond deflates a little, stops pacing and drops his hands to his sides.

“No… No, I’m sorry,” he sighs, perches back on the edge of the bed. He feels prickly and he fucking hates it. “What did your friend suggest?”

Bucky’s blush returns in full crimson and he shakes his head. “It was nothing. Nevermind,” he says quietly.

Steve sighs again, guilt eating at him that Bucky feels like he has to make himself small around him now. God, what does that say about him? About how he acts when he’s like this? _Fuck_. This needs to change.

“No, no, I want to know,” he insists, reaching a hand out to rest over his boyfriend’s. “My exes just… tried to make me pretend it never happened… They didn’t… didn’t try to help. I’m sure I haven’t tried it. Maybe it _will_ work.” Bucky’s eyes flick up to meet his and they look unsure. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, I’m sure,” Steve insists.

Bucky purses his lips, hesitates another moment before finally nodding. “Okay, yeah,” he says. “They, uh…” Steve didn’t think he could get any more red but Bucky is proving him wrong. “They, uh, they…. Um, how do I describe it?” He hesitates another moment, trying to find the right words, before deciding fuck it and going with being frank instead. “She dominates him.”

“You think _sex_ is going to help?” Steve barks out a bitter laugh. “ _Really_?! _That_ was the big fucking suggestion?!”

“It’s not a sex thing,” Bucky insists, but he pulls his hand back, obviously hurt by Steve’s reaction. “At least, not when he’s really depressed like that.”

“Look Buck, I’m not exactly the fucking pinnacle of vanilla here babe. I know how BDSM works and if you expect me to believe there’s a non-sexual way to impose that kind of dynamic in a relationship –“ he cuts off with a snort, up on his feet again and shaking his head. “No. If your friend is lucky enough to be able to get it up in a state like this then good for him but…” he trails off, still shaking his head.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky throws his hands up in defeat as he clambers out of bed. “Whatever you say Steve. I was just trying to help.” And with that he stomps off to get the coffee started.

 

*

 

Steve has his coffee but refuses to eat, instead opting to skulk around and pout like a petulant child all morning and half way into the afternoon. He sits at his desk for a while and tries to get some work done, but spends most of the time just sitting there with his head in his hands. Bucky’s at his desk next to him, glancing over at him with concern in his eyes from time to time but not saying anything.

Finally he lets out growl of frustration and stands up so quick his chair topples before storming out of the room. He finds himself pacing the apartment mindlessly, his gait slowing as his frustration fades to numbness and then makes its way back into a deep melancholy.

When Bucky finds him he’s on his knees on the floor of their walk-in closet, curled in on himself, his fingers laced behind his neck as he rocks. He’s not crying but his voice is broken as he’s mumbling “you’re okay, it’ll pass, you’re okay,” over and over like a prayer, like it’ll save him.

It’s in that moment that Bucky makes an executive decision.

“Get up,” Bucky says, gentle and caring but undeniably firm. Steve startles at the sound of the brunet’s voice. “Come on, on your feet babydoll. That’s an order.”

Steve hesitates for a long moment before finally dragging himself off the floor. Even when he is finally standing, he can’t bring himself to meet his boyfriend’s gaze.

He’s not really processing what Bucky’s doing, still too lost in his own head until Bucky tangles a hand in his hair and gently tugs his head back so he’s forced to look him in the eye. He lets out a soft gasp, his hands balling up in the hem of his own t-shirt as a shiver runs down his spine.

“Good boy,” Bucky coos. “So good for me baby.”

Steve’s legs feel like jello and he’s trembling now.

“Now, we’re gonna go take a shower, okay? Cuz I know you’ll feel better once you’re clean, and I want you to feel better. Is that okay?”

Steve tries to nod, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Can you check in baby?” Bucky asks when he sees the tears threatening to fall, letting go of his hair and instead cupping his cheek gently. “Gimmie a color.”

“G-green,” Steve stutters, leaning into the touch. _Sooo green_ , he thinks.

Bucky smiles at him and lets out a little relieved breath. “Good,” he mutters, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Good. Now I want you to go get started in the bathroom and I’ll join you in a second.”

Steve nods a little. “O-okay,” he practically whispers.

Bucky’s fingers curl around a few strands of his hair, just tight enough that Steve can’t pull away without getting his hair pulled again. “Okay _sir_ ,” he corrects gently.

The blond’s eyes go wide and he nods quickly. “Yes sir,” he says softly. “Okay sir.”

“Such a good boy,” the brunet coos, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Well, go on then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it! I know it's been a long time coming. Thanks for reading! ^_^
> 
> Comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc are my lifeblood and greatly appreciated!
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://worrsiomeme.tumblr.com) where I sometimes post little drabbles/ficlets that don't make it here and am always taking prompts/requests! Or if you just want to squee over our favorite superheroes ;P Love you guys! <3


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